


Caged Love

by immxrtalbi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Amnesia, Bittersweet Ending, Emotionally Repressed, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Harry falls for a dark person, M/M, Manipulation, Memories, Minor Character Death, Murder, Obsession, POV Tom Riddle, Starts Sweet then gets slowly Twisted, Unhealthy Relationships, Violent Thoughts, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26020945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immxrtalbi/pseuds/immxrtalbi
Summary: Tom's heart did a flip. He never wanted to let Harry go. "If I ever meet them, I'll kill them."Laughing, Harry shook his head and pulled him closer. "You're such a kidder!"But Tom wasn't kidding. He was being dead serious. If this was love, Tom would make sure to keep it caged up so others wouldn't have it.Harry was his.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 15
Kudos: 437





	Caged Love

**Author's Note:**

> based on my prompt about Tom being saved by Harry and he gets amnesia. Enjoy! working on my other prompts I came up with. and they're going greatttt

When Tom's eyes fluttered open, he was met with the prettiest green eyes he had ever seen. The stranger let out a surprised gasp and jumped back, sputtering apologies—which Tom found amusing.

"I didn't mean to scare you! I was making sure if you had any more wounds," the man said, scratching his forearm.

Wounds? What wounds?

As Tom sat up, he grunted as pain coursed through his spine and shoulder, as if he had been kicked. And he probably had been.

"Don't try to move!" the man rushed to his side, gently pushing Tom down. "Your shoulder was dislocated when I found you. I placed it back while you were unconscious."

Questions popped in Tom's mind, wondering what the stranger with glasses was talking about. In fact, he couldn't remember anything about his past; it's all blur. He only had one request. "Water?" His throat felt raw, like he swallowed glass.

"Oh—Of course!" He left the room, finally giving Tom a chance to inspect the area.

Tom was in a small, bare bedroom. It seemed in poor condition as the walls were peeling off and the ceiling had a long crack that extended across the room. It should disgust Tom that he was in a dump, and yet, it felt strangely like home. Did he live in similar conditions?

The man came back with a glass of water. "Here you go. I brought you a straw so you wouldn't sit up." Tom scowled but didn't say anything else. He merely opened his mouth when the man offered the water to him. The cold water soothed his dry throat that he sucked greedily all the remaining liquid.

"Wow. You were thirsty…" The man placed the empty glass on a messy nightstand.

"Where am I?" Tom demanded.

"You're at my place—"

"Who are you?" He didn't him a chance to finish.

"Harry. And you're being rude to someone who saved your life." Harry crossed his arms as he glared at Tom.

A part of Tom wanted to scream at Harry but another part told him something else. Something fake. "I apologize," Tom's voice came out hoarse. "I'm simply confused and scared as to where I am."

Harry uncrossed his arms, feeling guilty. "Oh shit. I'm sorry. I would do the same if I were in your shoes. Demanding answers and wondering who the person is." He sat on the edge of the bed—Tom was grateful for that. "Okay, let me start over. I'm Harry. I found you half-dead behind an abandoned building."

Tom's eyes widened. "You saved my life?"

Harry shrugged. "No big deal." But it was a huge deal.

"What was I doing there?"

"That's where you come in. Do you remember what happened to you?" Harry asked. He crossed his legs as he faced Tom.

"I… don't remember," he admitted. Even thinking about it gave him throbbing pulses in his head. All he could hear in his mind was screams and gunshots ringing in his ears and then so much blood. "I only know my name is Tom."

"That's what I thought." Harry sighed. "You suffered a lot of injuries. A blow to the head by something hard. Either gun, pipe, or bat. Could be anything. I had to clean all the blood off your hair to see how bad the damage was. You might want to go to a hospital—"

"No," Tom said firmly.

"No?"

"I don't know why but I seem to have awful thoughts about hospitals." This time Tom didn't know if it was true or a lie. But hearing the word _hospital_ brought a shiver down his spine.

"Okay, no problem. I reckon I can take better care of you than a doctor." Harry laughed and smiled at Tom. "I already bandaged your head."

Tom blinked, then touched where his hair was supposed to be. He felt rough material on the tip of his fingers. "That's very kind of you." He's surprised he hadn't noticed it.

Harry gave him a wide smile, and it made Tom feel something in the inside but it went away before he could figure it out.

"I know the feeling of someone helping you when you're hurt. I used to fight a lot when I was a kid," Harry explained, his words a mixture of fond and bitterness. "You see, I was an orphan."

 _Orphan_.

That particular word rang in Tom's head. Not quite bringing any memories, but it made his heart clench painfully. He wondered if he merely felt bad for Harry being an orphan… or if Tom was also one?

His head throbbed as he continued thinking. He had let out a hiss.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, concern. Tom was touched.

"I'm trying to remember anything but nothing pops up." Tom glared at the ceiling, hoping a part of the roof falls on him, because maybe then he'd remember something.

Harry's hand curled around Tom's. The pain from his heart lessened, much to Tom's confusion. "Maybe you should let it happen naturally, Tom. It's no good to rush things. You're welcome to be here for a while."

"You'd let a stranger stay in your place?"

Harry shrugged. "I trust you. Besides, it's not like I have anything valuable for you here," Harry said flatly. He waved his arm around, showing his ugly room.

Tom silently agreed.

* * *

For two days, Tom stayed put in bed—strictly Harry's orders. It's the least he could do. After those days, Harry checked his wounds and cleared him to walk around the apartment.

The place was the same as Harry's bedroom. Bare and broken. There were holes everywhere on walls and floors. A moldy patch in the kitchen ceiling where water droplets leaked down in a bucket. The living room was decent size and had a ripped couch in the middle. No sign of a telly.

Tom wanted to destroy this horrible wasteland.

"Morning," Harry said from the kitchen, "I'm making breakfast. Scrambled eggs and baloney. Sit down, I'll serve you in a second."

With a disgusted expression, he slowly sat on the ruddy couch, careful so Harry wouldn't see the face he was making. While he was grateful, he hated everything surrounding him.

"Here you go." Harry sat beside him and passed the breakfast plate. He then devoured his meal like a hungry man. Tom pretended not to look.

Harry was poor. That made more sense. He wore a plain white shirt with blue trousers that appeared to be slightly bigger in size. Tom guessed they were hand-me-downs.

Wiping the egg crumbs from his mouth, Harry asked, "Now that you feel better, do you want to go to the police—"

"No," he said coldly.

Harry froze, then a hollow laugh escaped his lips. "No hospital or police? If I didn't know better, I'd say you're a criminal." Still, deep down he was scared at the sudden tone from Tom. It was the first time he had heard of it.

"And if I was?" Tom placed the half-eaten plate on the scratched coffee table in front of them. Then locked gaze with Harry with an unreadable expression. "If I wanted to hurt you? What would you do?"

Harry couldn't form any words as they seemed to have gotten stuck in his throat.

Abruptly, Tom chuckled and patted Harry's shoulder. "I'm kidding, Harry. I wouldn't hurt you."

Harry exhaled a relieved sigh. For a moment he was terrified that Tom was completely serious. Those eyes of his… they were empty. Turning towards Tom, he watched the way he ate: calm and slow.

"Thanks for the food," Tom said kindly.

Harry smiled. Tom's a good man.

* * *

Tom was disappointed that there were no missing posters of him anywhere. It had been a week and he had expected someone to miss him terribly. He had healed from his body and was able to join Harry in places when he's not working.

Harry worked as a construction worker. His schedule consisted of working some days and nights, sometimes leaving Tom alone in the apartment. He hated it. Tom never realized how lonely the place got. Harry's endless chatters were what made the day fun.

He had become fond of the younger man.

When Harry came home dead tired in the middle of the night, he had usually slept on the couch. That wouldn't do. Harry deserved to be treated special, therefore Tom had gently picked him up and took him to the bedroom.

The following day, Harry's face was red from embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry, Tom! I must've forgot you were sleeping in the room," Harry stammered, fingers gripping the sheets.

Tom rolled his eyes, stretching his limbs. "If I had a problem, I wouldn't have brought you here."

Harry let out a small gasp. "You carried me?"

"I don't think it's fair that you sleep on the ugly couch. It can't be comfortable for your back." He propped on his elbow and placed his chin on his palm, staring at Harry, who wouldn't stop blushing.

"You're the guest so it seems fair—"

"I don't mind sharing," he interrupted, "after all, you've done so much for me." Tom poked his nose.

Harry nodded and then rushed to leave the bed, saying that he'd get started on breakfast. Tom laughed and flopped back down, inhaling Harry's scent that lingered on the pillow.

* * *

"Your head is all healed," Harry said upon inspecting it. It still had been tender, and advised Tom to be careful. "I still wish you had gone to get stitches."

Tom rolled his eyes. "No point. You did a better job. The doctors would've hurt me. But here I at least have a cute nurse." Harry smacked his shoulder. Tom enjoyed teasing him. "I can finally comb my hair. Wouldn't want to have your messy locks." This time Harry pushed him off the couch.

"We should buy take-out today, as a celebration!"

His lips curved down. "Is that wise? I know how money is tight right now."

Harry gave him a dismissive wave. "It's fine. It's a special treat for you." He had worked overtime to make extra money. Tom's company made Harry like being home. He had no one but a few friends that he would see once in a while. It's refreshing to be around Tom. But if Harry was being honest, he found his new roommate attractive.

"I should work too," Tom said in deep thought.

"You don't have to. If you want I won't stop you, but really it's alright."

Tom gave a once-over to Harry, then himself. The hand-me-downs they were wearing was not a pleasant sight. Harry had been kind enough to lend him clothes since all Tom had worn was some bloody white button-down, long sleeve shirt and black trousers that were shredded along the hem. His earlier appearance made Tom think he worked in a bank as a teller, or something.

Maybe having a job would help them afford nicer items. Starting with clothes. Tom wanted to burn the generic shirt he currently had on. He imagined Harry in a dashing suit with a silky green tie to match his eyes. Yes. Harry deserved the finest clothes.

* * *

When Harry asked how Tom's day was, he didn't expect him to say, "I got a job."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You did? Where?"

"Hepzibah's flower shop," Tom replied.

"Smith? She's a bitch. She never lets me inside because I look dirt poor." Harry pursed his lips, then quickly added, "But I'm happy for you! How did you do it?"

Tom smirked. "She took an instant liking to me, if you know what I mean."

Harry turned pale and shivered. "Gross! She's over fifty! Did you..."

"For heaven's sake, Harry! I didn't sleep with her," Tom shouted. He narrowed his eyes at him before he cleared his throat. "Besides, I'm not into females."

Harry, who was looking deep inside the fridge, smacked his head as he turned to his direction. "You're not?" He had hoped, but didn't dare believe it was true. Tom seemed the type to marry an elegant woman.

"My eyes have been occupied by a certain male," he teased.

His cheeks formed pink circles as he averted his gaze. He really wished Tom would stop teasing. "You love to joke around a lot."

"Who said I was joking?" Tom raised an eyebrow.

He rose from the couch and made his way towards Harry, who was now staring at the fridge again. He was scared to turn. Tom was behind him, breathing near his ear while arms wrapped around Harry's waist. He moved his hips forward, showing that he wasn't messing around. Harry felt something poking him.

"Now do you believe me?" he whispered, biting his ear lobe.

Harry rested his forehead against the metal platform of the freezer door. His own hands were grasping onto Tom's. He wondered how long they'd been dancing around each other.

"Tom," he breathed, squeezing his hand for encouragement.

That was all Tom needed. His fingers slipped inside Harry's shirt, softly stroking his tanned skin.

Harry bit his lips, then uttered out. "Wait—Let's do this in the room!"

Tom smirked and guided Harry to, dare he say, _their_ bedroom.

* * *

Tom had no idea if he had someone prior to his accident, and even if he did, he didn't want them now. Harry was the only person for him.

The first time Harry said _I love you_ was truly a memory he wouldn't forget. Tom said right back—and the smile that formed on his now boyfriend's lips was the second-best memory.

He had thought love was childish and pointless and only in movies—

A flashback suddenly occurred.

_"Love is stupid!" Tom growled. "Power is the only thing that fuels me. I'll never waste my time with someone unless it's to my benefits."_

_"But, my lord, what do we do with Lady—"_

_"Dump her body in the ocean for all I care. As longest she's nowhere near me. She had served her purpose." Tom sat on a velvet throne-like chair, drinking his whiskey._

_"Yes, my lord." The man bowed and exited the hideout._

_"I'll never be weak," Tom vowed. "Not for family, or anyone, ever again."_

Tom shook his head as he felt woozy. Was that a memory? It couldn't be… Tom had no one before his accident. He didn't want anyone. A world without Harry? Tom would die.

He had been leaning against the headboard. It's probably three o' clock, and the room was dark, the only light was the moonlight coming through the brittle brown blinds.

Harry was snoring beside him. Tom's lips curved up. They had sex for hours because Harry kept begging for more. How could Tom deny such a request? And he found out that he was wild in bed, which Harry loved so much.

Tom leaned down to kiss his bare shoulder, neck, and then cheek. He got comfortable and curled his arm around Harry. Then fell asleep, dreaming of nothing but his new life with his boyfriend.

He wanted love. This deep emotion that he never had in the past. He'd make sure of it.

* * *

Working under Hepzibah was an experience Tom regretted doing. The pay was decent, but not his manager's obvious crush on him. She was constantly talking and touching his hands, giving him praises like no tomorrow. The itch to kill was in his mind every time, much to his surprise. He had never thought about such things with Harry around.

"Tom, be a dear and help me," she ordered.

"Right away," he said sweetly.

He moved ceramic pots to the opposite side of the store and then climbed a ladder to change light bulbs. Looking over his shoulder was pointless because he knew Hepzibah was ogling at him. _Doing this for Harry, doing this for Harry,_ Tom thought while gritting his teeth.

Tom had been spoiling him; getting paid weekly was the best. The only downside was that he was forced to do overtime—because Hepzibah didn't want him to leave her.

Once he finished with his shift, he took off his garden apron.

"Where are you going, my boy?"

"Home, Ms. Smith." Tom gave a forced smile.

"That won't do. I need you here longer."

Tom counted to ten. "My shift starts at noon and ends at six. I've been doing overtime the past three weeks. Don't you think that's enough?"

Hepzibah scowled. "How inconsiderate! I gave you a job when no one else would!" She crossed her arms and approached Tom.

An abrupt memory of an older man shouting the words _we had a deal Tom!_ before he had killed him with a steel bat, flashed through his mind.

Something inside Tom snapped as he snatched a small pot from the counter and smacked it on her head in cold blood. She fell on the floor, motionless. Tom took a deep breath and said, "This could've been avoided if you didn't keep me longer than I was supposed to." With one final glance, he left the store.

He'd deal with the rest later. Right now he had important dinners plans with Harry.

* * *

"Did you hear about your boss?" Harry said. "She's all over the news!"

"Yes, very tragic." Tom's eyes lowered in sorrow, and Harry comforted him.

"I know you liked her, even though she was a bitch to me." He kissed Tom's forehead.

"What does the news say about her?" It was easy for him to get rid of her. Almost like a natural. He had killed before, that he knew.

"That she was mugged in an alley. Her skull cracked, so that's the cause of her death. Poor Smith. That's a horrible way to go."

Tom grabbed the newspaper and placed it on the counter. "Don't think about it. Think about us. I'm here with you." He led Harry into their bedroom. It's easy distracting his lover.

* * *

Both boys were drinking coffee on a lazy afternoon. Harry read the news as he took sips from his now cold drink. "Can't believe Voldemort suddenly disappeared."

"Voldemort?" Tom tested the name out. Why did it sound so familiar? "Who's that?"

"Oh, silly me! I forgot you don't remember much." He placed the mug down and showed him the paper. "Voldemort is a dangerous crime lord. He basically rules Britain with an iron fist. Everyone fears him," Harry went on.

"Sounds like a smart man." Tom glanced at the headlines: _Voldemort: Dead or Alive?_ The news talked about how Voldemort hadn't been seen in several weeks. "Well, not smart enough for him to be hiding."

"No one knows anything about him."

"Are you scared of him?" Tom inquired.

Harry frowned. "Yes—No—I mean, he kills people for a living. I wouldn't want to be on his list, you know? People like that have no remorse." He eyed the newspaper with disdain.

Tom reached over the table to cover Harry's hand with his. "I swear to you, Harry. No one will ever hurt you. I'll protect you with my life," Tom said in a determined voice.

Harry blushed. "Oh, Tom. You romantic fool." Both reached over the table at the same time and kissed each other. However, from the corner of his eye, Tom peered at the article; the sound of gunshots echoed loudly in his head.

* * *

Since he killed Hepzibah, Tom had been having dark tendencies. He feared if Harry ever found out... he'd be repulsed. One time Harry was cutting vegetables when he had accidentally cut his finger with a knife. Blood had dripped down his hand. It was beautiful. Tom had stopped what he was doing and sucked his finger without a second thought.

He would never forget Harry's shocked face.

Tom vowed to hide his wicked tendencies from his lover. For now.

But it's getting harder.

Not only that but he also had a possessive side he didn't know about.

Just yesterday, they were walking across the street when Harry bumped into his old best friend, Ron. Tom was a bit upset that Harry had paid attention to someone other than him. But he perked up when Harry introduced him as his boyfriend.

Ron was wary. He kept staring at him suspiciously before murmuring words low enough so Tom wouldn't hear. Once they departed, Tom asked what all that was about.

"He's protective of me," Harry said.

"Oh?"

"Erm—" He scratched his head. "I didn't exactly pick good boyfriends. So my best friends often liked to check up on me."

"What did your exes do?" The word _exes_ tasted like ash in his mouth.

Harry's lips quirked down. "I don't know if I should say it..."

Tom slowed his steps and clutched his hand. "You can tell me anything, Harry. You know that." He always reminded him.

Harry nodded, then softly smiled. "I know I can." He leaned to kiss him. "The truth is... they were assholes. Often treated me like shit. But you're different, Tom. You're the first boyfriend that's sweet and caring."

Tom's heart did a flip. He never wanted to let Harry go. "If I ever meet them, I'll kill them."

Laughing, Harry shook his head and pulled him closer. "You're such a kidder!"

But Tom wasn't kidding. He was being dead serious. If this was love, Tom would make sure to keep it caged up so others wouldn't have it.

Harry was his.

* * *

He had only been with Harry for three months when everything came to a blissful end. Tom was standing over two dead bodies. He had a gun in his right hand. Easily, he threw it away.

Little by little his memories returned and there was no denying the truth that he was a killer. But everything came to light when he suffered another blow in the head, regaining all of his memories. His head still hurt from the sudden impact that was done by his enemies. Those fools. It only made him remember who he really was: Voldemort.

"It's good to be back," Tom said in a low tone. "Malfoy?"

"Yes, my lord?" a man stood beside him. His second in command was always reachable.

"Tell everyone of my arrival. And if anyone betrays me... they'll end up like Nott and Snape. Got it?" He glared at the traitors on the ground. Then he stuck his hand out, Malfoy dropped a lighter in his palm, then Tom flicked it. He watched the bodies be engulfed in flames. His eyes mesmerized with the orange and yellow colors. He missed this.

"Right away, Voldemort." Malfoy left instantly.

Tom popped his neck and ran his bloody hand over his face and hair, smearing the blood across his pale skin. Three months. He missed three months of dealing with his business. Millions of dollars wasted. No matter. He could get it back in no time.

Sobs broke his train of thought. Tom craned his head, looking at Harry with hooded eyes. Oh, how could he forget about him. His savior. He stalked towards him. Harry crawled further back to the corner of the wall.

"Please don't kill me!" Harry begged. His eyes puffy from crying for an hour of watching Tom commit heinous crimes.

"Oh, Harry." Tom crouched down, hand cupping Harry's cheek, marking him with his blood. "I'm not going to kill you. I love you."

Harry cried harder.

"And you love me, remember? Or was that all a lie?" His fingers lightly dug on his flesh.

"N-No. I love you, Tom," Harry stuttered. He was telling the truth, Tom could tell by his honest eyes.

Who's the romantic fool now.

"Good." Tom's lips landed on Harry's, rough and painful. Nothing like the past times they'd kissed each other. "I promised you I was going to protect and take care of you. You deserve the world." Tom wrapped his arms around him, and Harry let him. Too shaken up to do anything. "You're _mine_."

"I'm yours," Harry said in a cracked voice. Sobbing on Tom's shoulder. He had no choice now. There's no escaping the most notorious crime lord the he both feared and loved at the same time. "I'm yours… Voldemort."


End file.
